Saturday, June 20, 2009

Maybe After my Coffee

Light falls between Redwood branches
bouncing of bay leaves on it’s way to me
while the birds are still gossiping

I’m hoping I can make to my first cup of coffee
it’s too early and I’m too dead to reflect on anything
beautiful, alarming or confusing

Maybe when I wake up I’ll remember something about this
or maybe I won’t—I’m not sure how much it matters
when I have my coffee I’ll give it more thought
I hope

I’ll probably have things to do by then
things always need doing
I hardly have time to think about all the things that need doing
let alone early morning light, trees and birds
but maybe after my coffee. . .

1 comment:

graham said...

way to post more poems and have them be good.